


Shattered Trust

by MelodyoftheVoid



Series: Fading Reflections [6]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: :), Competent Zim (Invader Zim), Dark Magic, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Grieving, He knows more than he lets on, M/M, Membrane Suffers™, Memory Loss, Mind Control, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Professor Membrane Tries to Be a Better Parent, Seizures, Sibling Bonding, Tags Contain Spoilers, eventually, i think, just a litany of bad choices, magic has consquences, zib making some choices™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25749577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyoftheVoid/pseuds/MelodyoftheVoid
Summary: Promises are easy to make; keeping them is another matter entirely.
Relationships: Dib & Professor Membrane, Dib/Zim (Invader Zim), Gaz/Tak (Invader Zim), Zib | Zim Number 1 & Professor Membrane
Series: Fading Reflections [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817320
Comments: 211
Kudos: 226





	1. I Will Protect You

Most nights, Gaz barely spent any time in her room. There wasn’t a point to it. Some of the overly religious would say that idle hands were the playgrounds of demons, but Gaz had a different opinion. 

Idle hands weren’t working hard enough. 

Her whole childhood she’d had nothing but idle hands, bored by the expectations of traditional ‘feminine’ activities. Sure, embroidery was cathartic, and it was good to know how to repair her own clothing, but that only satiated her so much. No, she craved a challenge, a struggle. 

But right now, Gaz didn’t feel much of anything. So here she sat, idle in her room. 

There wasn’t much of a point to training for a future king that lay at the bottom of the ocean. 

Gaz glared at the sword that once gave her purpose. That once promised to give her a place in this world better than a trophy to be married off or a pretty face to be paraded about in court. Now it only seemed to remind her of the brother she’d failed. 

The week since the funeral did little to quell the self-loathing that sat in her stomach, an unyielding iron weight that refused to let up. By all means the feeling served no purpose, and yet it persisted. 

She still remembered the night it all began to fall apart, the events replaying on loop.

Dib paced the ballroom that night, wincing and flinching at the well-wishers asking about when he’d officially take the throne, what his plans were, etc. She’d done her best to run mild interference, but she thought Dib could handle the barrage of questions. 

Gaz ignored the constant flutes of champagne, the furtive glances to her and Zim. More content to chat with Tak than to worry about him.

She left to help Zim with Gir, only glancing as Zib led a shaking Dib out for some air.

Gaz couldn’t even remember the last words she’d spoken to him.

She felt like screaming at their former self, the signs were so obvious, and yet she did nothing. 

A knock at the door forced Gaz out of her pity party, the muffled voice of Zib asking if he could come in. She responded with a quiet sure, tinged with irritation at her solace being interrupted. 

Her brother stepped in, his dower clothing just another reminder of all that had changed. His eyes fell onto the ground, at the sword that hadn’t left her side in years. 

“I was looking for you, it’s almost dinner time.”

The dimming light of the sun, as well as a stray growl from her stomach confirmed how late it’d gotten without her noticing. 

“I tried to find you at the training grounds, but they said you hadn’t been there in days.” 

“Haven’t felt like it.”

The mattress dipped as Zib sat beside her, “Oh, right. I can imagine that it’s different there now.”

“I don’t feel worthy of the sword. I was supposed to protect Dib, yet I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t trust myself with the position I’ve wanted my whole life.”

“I suppose that’s where we differ then. You had your purpose torn from you, I had one thrust upon me. I used to think about how I would become a king one day. But it was always just that, a fantasy. It was never like this.”

“Really? Never pictured you as the ruling type.”

“I confess I was always somewhat jealous. He always got so much attention just because of his status, yet he didn’t want to take the position he’d been born into. I never thought he was considering…”

As the words died on the tip of his tongue; Gaz waited for him to continue. The trio’s relationship suffered significantly over the years, separate destinies tearing the siblings apart. Gaz hoped she could at least mend this bridge. 

“You’d expect that all the details would stand out, yet it’s all just a blur. He mentioned wanting to sail away, just to clear his head, and that was it. I couldn’t tell you what I said in return if I wanted to. I spent the rest of the night in my study, not thinking anything of his comment. Now here we are.”

“I don’t remember what I last said to Dib either. I just let him work himself up about everything and then he was gone.”

Zib stopped Gaz with a glance, pity and an emotion she couldn’t place fighting for control.

“I know it’s hard but there’s no sense in beating yourself up, Gaz.”

“Still, I could’ve-“

“There wasn’t anything that you could have done.”

Ever the blunt one wasn’t he? But Zib was right. Gaz let out a sigh, letting her clenched fists go slack. 

“You’re right, it’s just. It’s hard to believe he’s really gone.”

“I know,” a gloved hand covered hers, a small grip of solidarity. 

Gaz tried to remember the last time just her and Zib spoke. She came up empty. 

The conversation lapsed, neither ready to move forward or leave the room. An odd expression crossed Zib’s face, as if contemplating.

Or planning. 

With Zib the line between the two barely existed. 

“Do you think it was a kraken?” 

Gaz snapped her head up, furrowing her brow in confusion.

“What?” 

Zib flushed, “I just, I meant that it would be… ironic if one of those creatures he always hunted was what destroyed the ship. Better that than some storm.” 

Gaz almost wanted to let out a laugh at her brother's attempt at comfort, it seemed his people skills only applied to stuffy nobles. Practicality applying to her own self-doubt and illogical behavior rather than genuine sentiment. Still, she couldn’t deny a similar thought running through her mind. Dib could handle rough waters, to let it get the better of him carried implications she dared not entertain. 

This was easier. 

“He would manage to do that, wouldn’t he?” 

The nervous energy drained from Zib, “Maybe he pissed off some sea god?”

“A giant sea serpent.”

“Or ran into a pack of sirens.” 

“What would they lure him with? All the secrets to magic?”

“HA!”

The siblings traded theories back and forth, indulging in ideas as outlandish as giant sea crabs or killer dolphins, the setting sun casting the room in an array of colors. 

The cloud of dread lifted slightly, and for a moment 

But she’d had moments like this with Dib as well, moments where everything felt fine, but without warning the world shifted. She couldn’t take the risk of losing Zib too, not if she could help it. 

“Zib,” her words felt harsh, even to her, “if you needed help, would you come to me?” 

The fact that he hesitated to answer told her everything she needed to know. He and Dib were cut from such a similar cloth it hurt. 

“Yes.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” 

“And Gaz?” 

“Yes?”

“I’d be happy to have you at my side. You’re still the best swordsman in the kingdom after all.”

As the two finally departed for dinner Gaz made a silent vow. She would protect Zib, from naysayers, from any outside attacker, and from himself. She would not lose him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dominoes continue to fall, however will they land? We've arrived at the brink folks, buckle up.


	2. I Can Save You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim's used to being underestimated, that's ok though. It means that he do this.

Contrary to popular belief, Zim was not stupid. Sure, he had his moments of less than stellar judgement, but all his ideas came from a sound foundation of experience and knowledge. Zim could tell a good deal from a person’s body language for example. Making oneself less of a target tended to help with that.

He noticed the way people acted when they’d done something wrong. One of his favorite pastimes when he used to sneak out into town was watching amateur thieves try their hand. For first timers, their anxiety would increase, they’d become overly jumpy. For the more seasoned, they could pass off their crimes until they felt sure they’d never be caught. Hubris kicking in the longer it went unseen.

Zib’s smug look when he took him across the dancefloor had alarm bells ringing louder than the string quartet’s gentle waltz.

The progression of his suspicions started slow. After all, Zib’s demeanor at the funeral appeared in character. He looked distraught, conflicted. Zim assumed at the time it was due to the lack of a body. With no tangible evidence of a death, the heart could still hold out a small, painful sliver of hope.

Losing a brother so suddenly? Zim couldn’t imagine it. In spite of his… tumultuous relationship with Red, he still cared for him.

When Zim apologized for how he’d acted towards the prince after he’d broken the news of Dib’s demise, the surprise looked genuine as well. Zib lost a piece of himself just as much if not more than Zim had. At least. That’s what Zim thought at the time.

But then the Empress declared that he’d go through with the treaty as it was written. And Zib acted less like a brother in mourning fulfilling a duty to his fallen kin, instead he acted as if he’d won at one of the games they’d played when they were younger.

It didn’t help that his newly acquired wardrobe gave his appearance a distinctly dour air. Looking more akin to the villains in the plays back home with his dark purples and blacks. Zim could attribute it to not wanting to resemble his brother out of grief, wearing the muted shades in mourning, but Zim couldn’t remember Zib looking any happier than he acted now. Almost delighted in his brother’s absence. In addition to the clothes, his skin looked decidedly off.

If Zim wanted to be generous, he looked sick. As of right now? He looked green.

No conventional explanation satisfied him; no illness presented such a symptom with no other negative effects. It had to be magic. More specifically, corruption caused by dark magic. But that couldn’t be right. Only Irken nobility, primarily the royal family, had access to any of the tomes explaining advanced magic, and any books on the more twisted applications of the craft were destroyed eons ago. So how would Zib, a prince from another kingdom entirely, get his hands on knowledge lost to the only family that practiced magic?

Even with those factors added together, Zim was left with an incomplete picture. But one he could begin to discern the outline of. Somehow, someway, Zib could perform magic, and that same magic was responsible for Dib’s death.

A strange movement caught Zim’s eye, distracting him from his internal musings. He squinted at the mirrored wall, it almost looked like Zib’s reflection was… Moving out of sync? He shook his head. Clearly the stress of this situation was getting to him. He’d experienced similar hallucinations during one of King Membrane’s other ceremonies, locking eyes with a reflection that didn’t quite match.

Yet the longer he looked, stealing glances at the many panels as the two went through the required motions, the more he saw Dib. And it looked like he(?) saw Zim too. Familiar eyes lighting up, a grin splitting the face he’d missed so dearly. He schooled his own expression, doing his best to make minimal eye contact with the apparition. He wanted it to be him.

He didn’t know what he’d do if it was though.

Zim bowed to Zib, concluding the dance. Zim watched as the remaining Membrane twin walked away, his reflection following, yet keeping its eyes on him.

That did it. There was definitely something wrong here.

Wracking his brain, Zim tried to think of where Zib could hide his practice, cursing himself for avoiding the younger twin as much as possible. At first because of their uncanny resemblance, then because Zib just gave him the creeps. He had no idea how Zib spent his time, let alone where.

Asking the staff yielded a quick answer; apparently the new heir apparent spent his evenings in a private study, one that no one but him entered. If that didn’t scream suspicious, he didn’t know what would.

Staying out of sight, Zim followed the prince. Another benefit of making a scene wherever you went was people ignored you when you went quiet.

The hours ticked by, the sun going down and still no exit. The servants paid Zim little mind, going about their final duties of the day, the foot traffic trickling to nothing as the first stars emerged from the inky black sky.

Zim watched as finally Zib exited the room after several hours, visibly drained. Keeping a close eye on his retreating form, Zim cracked open the door, unease crawling up his spine.

It appeared to be a study of some kind. He crept in, nerves ablaze with fresh anxiety. Zim let out the breath he was holding when he found the room empty, no hidden traps or guards. Before he could examine the books or trinkets lining the walls any further though, a voice spoke, cutting though the faint sound of distant crickets.

“Zim?”

The prince turned, fear clawing at him. He’d been caught for sure, various half-baked explanations leaving his mouth before he saw it. Or more precisely, him.

“Dib?”

His love, the man he’d mourned over an empty grave over, the one who occupied his every waking thought, was here. Zim barely registered the mirror, rage overtaking all logical thought. So, this was where he was hiding all this time? Leaving him alone? Dib’s expression fell as the Irken’s fists clenched, tears springing to his eyes.

“How dare you. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU? Do you have any idea what I’ve gone through these past five months? DO YOU?” Zim raised a fist fully prepared to give Dib a piece of his mind, previous suspicions of magic trickery gone in an instant. The anger and indignation overwhelming.

“ZIM, WAIT-“

Dib shrunk back, raising translucent hands to defend himself as his eyes widened in fear. Wait, translucent? Zim stopped, finally taking in Dib’s appearance. His location. He remembered the ballroom.

“What, what is this?”

The missing prince slowly lowered his hands, still tense “My punishment apparently. The night of our party, he locked me to his reflection. I’ve been forced to watch him, move with him. Then just… sit here at night. Every day.”

“How? That shouldn’t be possible!”

“I’m not entirely sure. I only got a brief glimpse at his notes before my… imprisonment. Zib’s been experimenting though, I recognized a few of the books as Irken, he must have imported them or something. Maybe even stolen them.”

“That prick.”

Zim let out a small huff before pressing his palm to the glass, tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

“I missed you, Dib. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too Zim. I wish I could see you more during the day, but I don’t blame you for not wanting to be near Zib. He’s… he’s not the same anymore.”

“You mean he’s green.”

“Other than that.”

It brought some sense of comfort to Zim that Dib at least kept watch over him as best he could, concerned for him despite his current situation. Dib interrupted his train of thought with a string of questions about what was going on in the kingdom. How was Gaz? How was his father?

It hit Dib the hardest when Zim explained that they’d held the funeral last month. It’d been understated, a private affair for a royal passing. King Membrane it seemed wished to keep his mourning private, at least as far as Zim could tell. Dib asked why the world thought him dead.

“They found the remains of your ship a month ago… Zib. Zib told me in person, he gave me your knife,” Zim let out a small sob, “He looked me in the eyes and told me you’d never be coming back. He lied right to my face and had the audacity to tell me to move on. I’d bet anything he destroyed your ship himself, no I’m certain of it.”

“The knife?”

Zim blinked at the question.

“Uh, the knife I proposed to you with? Dib are you alright?”

The prince just stared vacantly; eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t remember that.”

Dib continued, “I can’t remember things, small details, I know that I’m missing something, but I don’t know what. Zim,” his love looked afraid, “Zib’s spell, it’s making me disappear. All of me.”

Zim pressed further against the mirror, trying to pretend he could feel Dib’s warmth despite the cold, harsh reality.

He wasn’t sure how he could feel more anger towards Zib than he already did, but seeing Dib’s anguish, knowing that Zib knew what he was doing not only to Dib, but to his family and the entire kingdom. His smug attitude towards Zim, going through the motions of courting despite what he’d done. Parading about the palace with Dib as his captive audience. It made Zim want to vomit.

“I’m going to beat the shit out Zib. I’ve wanted to for a while now but that does it.”

“Zim you can’t!”

The hope that lit up Dib’s eyes just a moment before faded into fear, he dropped his hands away from the surface of the glass.

“Zim, if he was able to do this to me, what would he do to you? I don’t know what he wouldn’t do anymore! I can barely recognize him most days, you don’t know what he does in here. Zim,” amber met amethyst, “Zib’s dangerous.”

“And what should I do? Let him rule over this kingdom and me and say nothing? Dib, you’re fucking dying! I am getting you out of that gods-dammed mirror.”

“How though? You said it yourself, the documents about this type of magic are either ancient or non-existent. And Zib won’t let me out any time soon,” Dib clutched at his arms, hunched and small, “I’m not sure if there’s any way for me to-“

“NO!”

Zim turned around, checking to see if his cry had been heard before looking Dib in the eyes.

“Do you really think I’d let you disappear? Fuck that. Zib made two mistakes, writing down everything he did, and messing with me. I may not have much magic, but I can at least try and undo what he’s done.”

Zim wiped the tears collecting at the corners of his eyes away, mind scrambling to think of some solution.

  
“I have to try. I can’t lose you again. Not when I have a chance to save you, Dib.”

  
Neither knew what to do or say, the enormity of the task ahead suffocating. Zim glanced at the light of the harvest moon, illuminating the land beneath in a faint orange hue. A pair of familiar stars visible from his vantage point by the mirror.

  
Their stars.

  
Zim began to hum the lullaby the Empress sang to him as a child, a song of the season’s change, the colors of autumn bringing back memoires of days past.

  
“I, I remember this song.”

“Good, Zi- I went through a lot of trouble to teach it to you. Your Irken was so terrible it sounded like you were choking.”

“Good thing my second teacher knew what they were doing.”

The two sang, closing their eyes and pretending, just for a moment, that everything was alright. Dib stumbling over the words but finding strength in Zim’s confidence, he could almost feel Zim’s hand on his, the soft skin soothing against his own calloused skin. A lovely lie, but one over too soon.

“Zim, please be careful.”

A determined grin stretched across Zim’s face, “You’ll get to watch what happens. You can yell at me for being reckless later.”

Zim pressed a kiss to the glass, slipping out of the study as quietly as he came. Bidding Dib a final promise of return.

For the first time in months, hope blossomed in his heart, overtaking the despair that had lodged there like a malignant tumor. He’d get Dib out of that mirror if it was the last thing he did. Because Zim wasn’t stupid. He’d figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I can be nice! They're reunited! It's ok! Everything is going to be a-ok. *sweats*


	3. I Will Be A Better Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kingdom was only as strong as its ruler, but what about its next generation?

Running a kingdom required sacrifices, the mechanisms that kept it flourishing as intricate as any living being. Some organs more obvious in their importance than others, yet each vital to the survival of the whole. Membrane was only one man, and it was inevitable that he would neglect some part, some piece of the whole. 

It wasn’t until one was cut away with all the surgical precision of a butcher’s knife that he understood how much he had ignored his children. The blood from the wound painting the land in uncertainty and unrest. 

Dib, his eldest son, his heir. Lost to the depths of the ocean without so much as a note goodbye. 

It was easy to see in hindsight all that he’d done wrong, even the king was not immune to the follies of lesser men. A father wants what is best for his children, but when you have to balance the needs of thousands, you have to entrust their care to others. 

He’d seen Dib’s anxieties about taking the throne, how could he not. The boy wore his emotions on his sleeve, honest to a fault at times. He’d hoped that his guidance, where he could spare the time, would ease his worries. 

Membrane admired Dib’s curiosity and compassion; traits seldom seen in the upper echelons of society. His would have been a reign unlike any seen before it, guided by a heart perhaps too big for his body, a head full of knowledge of distant lands and cultures. But he’d... he’d never told Dib that he never expected him to rule in his likeness. His advice likely coming across as admonishment. 

Never had the cloak covering his face felt so suffocating, the crown so burdensome. Dib saw him as king first, father second. How could he not have? That all too familiar tightness crept back up his throat, an urge to weep that he could not indulge. Not before the world. A monarch’s grief was meant for quiet chambers, away from the prying eyes of court and their citizens. 

In his time, Membrane had carefully crafted a public persona of stability, a stone foundation that the people could trust, could rely upon. Every tear would weather that foundation away, and that was a cost he could not afford. Not now. 

Still, he found his mind wandering, the hypnotic pull of the missing details too strong to not indulge in. The loss might be easier to bear with if he knew what happened. Or had more to remember him by. But the logs that Dib methodically kept now likely lay ruined beyond recognition at the sea floor, dissolved into tiny particles. Carrying the truth with them along the currents to never see the light of day. 

What had his boy’s final moments been? Did Dib get lost in some isolated storm, unable to tell which direction to go? Had he nearly capsized, now without his instruments to guide him? Alone in the middle of the sea?  
Had Dib been afraid?  
It killed him to think he might not have been.

Membrane let out a shaky breath, trying to stay in the present. It did little good to linger on those questions, nor the dead, not when the living still needed him. His children still needed him. He would not fail them, not again. 

The opportunities he missed to learn more about Dib’s hobbies, learn about Dib, he wouldn’t let that same apathy to pass for Gaz and Zib. 

Gaz, the most talented swordsman the kingdom could ask for. How many times had he watched her practice? He could barely recall which style of weapon she preferred, only that she stood undefeated, even by some of the most seasoned guards. 

Somehow, he doubted she would wish to open up about Dib. 

She rarely spent time outside of the guard; training recruits and fighting at all hours of the day. At the very least she seemed to spend more time with her surviving brother now. That protective instinct as strong, if not stronger than ever. It left a bittersweet taste to see the two become closer. 

And the ever-complex enigma that was his middle child. He barely knew where to begin with him. Zib could play the complex mind games of the nobility well, yet when it came to speaking to his family, he preferred to stay silent. Buried in his various books and journals if he bothered to come out of his study at all. 

Membrane could barely begin to guess what went on in his head, what he studied, what he wanted. Zib kept so much close to his chest, perhaps he could start there. Zib and Dib carried many of the same interests as children, that bond evident in Dib’s seeking of his twin’s help the night of the party. Some closure might be found for the both of them.

It appeared fortune smiled in his direction for a brief moment as the king spotted a now familiar cape rounding the corner. 

“Ah, Zib my son, perfect timing!” 

He tried to ignore the tension in Zib’s shoulders as he approached. Dib would do the same when the king appeared behind him without warning. It caused him less pain to pretend their similar demeanors caused such an identical reaction. 

“Father, what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, I merely wanted to speak with you. It has come to my attention that I have not spoken to you as often as I should have.”

“You are the king, we understand.”

“I am also your father, Zib. You just lost your brother and now you must take up the mantle of heir. Am I wrong to be worried about you?” 

His son rolled his eyes, tensing up as he muttered, “I don’t see why you decided to start now.”

That comment hit its mark well, the stoic mask cracking as he flinched. Grief making itself known once more.

“Because I needed to start somewhere, son. Will you indulge me on this?”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” he crossed his arms, “I have to get back to my studies soon. I have much to catch up on, different tutors taught different subjects and I have to ensure I am properly educated to be king.”

“I… understand. I know you were one of the last to speak to Dib, did he. Did he mention why he wanted to leave?”

“I don’t want to talk about that night. Or him. Can we drop it? Please?”

“Please, I want to know, son.”

“What for? It’s not going to change anything. He’s gone, and we aren’t going to get answers.”

“Zib…”

“Just leave me alone!” Zib started to walk away, the movement so familiar, for a second the silhouette of his eldest appeared walking away from another lecture, away from him, off to never be seen again. The words came out before he could stop them. 

“Why can’t you just talk to me for once Dib?!”

The silence that followed deafened, the canyon dividing father and son expanding ever further. Membrane took a step back at the vitriol in Zib’s eyes, a burning seething anger that pierced through him. 

“Oh. I see how it is.”

It seemed despite his best efforts he was doomed to fail. 

Yet just as soon as the disgust lanced across Zib’s face, it was gone. Replaced by something more… contemplative. His son took a deep breath, looking more exhausted than a young man his age should. 

“Zib,” he set a hand on the prince’s shoulder, “I am sorry, I did not mean to-“

“It’s fine.”

Zib’s response came out curt. Cutting off his apology. Perhaps he was better for it, he’d already done enough damage.

“I understand that I’m his replacement. Even now.”

“Son…”

“It’s fine.” 

Zib turned away, cape fluttering. It felt final in its deliberate snap. 

Perhaps it would be better to move the finalization of the treaty sooner, for Zib to cement his legacy. His son was brilliant, that he knew, but it was apparent now more than ever that the loss of Dib cut through their family in ways that he was ill-equipped to handle. Perhaps he'd always been ill-equipped to handle a family. 

He needed to keep trying though. Zib would take the throne now and needed to be prepared for that responsibility. Personal lessons, only about the responsibilities of the mantle, no talk of lost siblings, or forced reconciliation. That bridge seemed to have burned to nothing while he wasn’t looking. 

Now, after the fallout settled, his short comings glared back at him, numerous and painful. 

His foundations were too rigid for the wandering minds of his twins, too traditional for the headstrong Gaz. He’d lost too much time in following the mold of the monarchs who came before, now he was left with the damning results. 

Time would tell if the wound would ever heal. He hoped for the sake of his family it would

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zib doesn't know what he wants anymore, it just always seems to circle back to Dib. Always Dib. He wants to be his own person, only mentioning his brother when its convenient. Coming from Membrane? Yeah...


	4. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are consequences for every action. Zim should have been more careful.

Zim bristled at Zib’s side, fists clenched tight as the two made their way down the hall. He glared at his captor, ignoring the whispers of the staff as the curse tugged Zim along. Perhaps making a scene during court wasn’t the smartest idea he’d ever gone through with but damn if the look on Zib’s stupid face wasn’t worth it. 

The first part of the pair’s plan had succeeded. Ever since Zib caught him sneaking in and out of the study in a desperate attempt for the two to try and get the trapped prince out, Dib was now permanently in the study mirror. Able to be transferred to a smaller mirror in order to get him to his more magically adept family.

Unfortunately though, Zim hadn’t been spared from Zib’s magic. To keep Zim from any more attempts at freeing Dib, Zib stuck him on an invisible leash, now unable to do more to help. If he dared go any further than 10 paces away from Zib, his body began to fail, withering away at a rapid pace.

Gaz was of little help, any mention prior to the ‘attachment’ of Zib being up to something or attempting to lead her to the study were met with blank stares and outright rejections. She wouldn’t have him ruining her relationship with her last remaining sibling apparently. From what he could tell, she took his recent reluctance to leave his side as acceptance. And it wasn’t as if he could prove anything now. 

So needless to say, he felt entitled to a bit of petty revenge in the form of bringing Dib up to the nobles, lamenting his loss. Watching the room fill with stories of the fallen sibling, and seeing Zib realize what was happening, 

Back to his current predicament, Zim’s stomach dropped as the two turned down the tunnel to the hidden room that Dib now lived in. The dark prince’s face remained infuriatingly calm, almost smug, not saying a word. 

Zim looked away from the twin’s greenish face to look at the mirror that occupied his every thought. Dib looked concerned, if not the slightest bit hopeful. Zib didn’t come into the room with Zim ever, and rarely even acknowledged his brother at the best of times. He tried to find comfort in that. It didn’t help much.

“Now Zim, I hope you know that what you did today was quite embarrassing for me.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t, oh I don’t know, put a lethal curse on both Dib and I, maybe I wouldn’t hate your guts as much as I do.” 

Zib tsked before turning toward the mirror, walking with calculated steps. He was up to something and Zim knew it. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he lay a hand on the mirror. Zim watched as Dib reluctantly copied his brother’s movements, “this is not really an ideal situation for me either.” 

Zim raised an eyebrow. “Really. Allow me to find the smallest of violins to express my pity for the problems you caused yourself.”

A gloved fist slammed against the mirror. Both Zim and Dib’s eyes widened in fear, searching the glass for cracks. Dib’s body was tense as he mimicked Zib, watching his twin collect himself and stand directly between Zim and the mirror. Hands twitching in small motions.

“Zim. We each have… Our frustrations with one another. But the wedding is only a few weeks away, and I would rather not have to drag you kicking and screaming to the altar.”

“Then let Dib out.”

“We both know that’s not happening, I’ve come too far at to turn back now. But I do have a solution to our problems.” 

Zib took a step towards Zim, snapping his fingers to lock the door behind the prince. For his part, Zim did his best to try and pry the door open, but the old oak door stood firm. Dib slammed against the surface of the mirror in his own fruitless attempt to do something, anything. 

“Zib, please, whatever you’re about to do, reconsider! I’m begging you, please…”

The trapped prince shouted after his brother, knowing deep down that his twin’s mind was made up. 

Zim pressed against the door, praying to whatever deity would listen for help. Shaking like a leaf in fear. He reached for the dagger he normally kept but came up empty. He was defenseless.

“You hate me, and I hate when you act out of turn.” 

Zib’s yellowed eyes lit up with a light blue hue, drawing Zim’s gaze in instantly. All tension and anger started to drain away, a haze enveloping his mind. Zim felt dizzy, like his mind wasn’t connected to his body. He let out a slurred, “What’re you doing?”, as he stumbled forward, the urge to be closer to that light overtook any thought of fighting back.

“So, if you won’t learn to behave, then I suppose I’ll have to make you. After all, If I am to be Dib’s replacement, I think I am entitled to all that that entails. Including you.”

Dib’s desperate cries faded into nothing, but Zim could barely remember him at this point. He didn’t need to. His king would take care of everything. A gentle hand tilted his head up, further guiding him into that lovely light. He smiled. This was nice, pleasant even. What was he so frightened of earlier? It didn’t matter now. 

Zib almost purred in satisfaction, watching the fight leave the smaller prince as the spell took hold. Everything was falling into place perfectly. Zib spun his entranced betrothed to face his twin, who looked up at him in abject horror, tears streaming down his face. Zib leaned in close to Zim, admiring the beautiful blue of his eyes. He could see how Dib fell for Zim now, he had an innocent air about him when he let his guard down.

“Zim my dear, who do you belong to?”

A dull monotone responded, “To you, my King.”

“Much better, don’t you think?” 

Dib couldn’t respond. There was nothing he could say. 

Zib guided his now compliant groom out toward the door, lazily waving behind him at the fading form of his brother.

“Don’t worry Dib, I’ll take good care of him. It’s a shame really, I was curious to see how he’d try and get you out. Oh well, I guess we’ll never know. Besides, I’m not sure how much of you there is to save.”

The door shut with a familiar click. Leaving Dib alone and helpless yet again.

From inside the mirror, Dib knew he was right. He didn’t have much time left, and he didn’t know if he wanted to hold on. Zim was his one hope, his opportunity to get out. His Zim would never stop fighting, his determination and stubborn refusal to abandon any cause one of the many things he loved. Zim vowed to him that he’d figure out a way to save Dib from his fate, to never stop searching. 

Zib may have stolen his physical form and let his memories fade like the rest of him, but Dib never imagined he’d stoop this low; he’d held onto a sliver of hope that somewhere, somehow, they could get through to Zib. But that hope was gone now, his brother stole the soul out of Zim, leaving only a shell for him to parade around, assured in his victory. 

And he had won, hadn’t he? Dib cried harder for Zim, for his kingdom, his sister, all the people he’d failed because he’d been too stupid to see the writing on the wall. How could he have ever ruled if he couldn’t even see his own brother turn against him? Stood by ignorant as that brother twisted and morphed himself into a monster. Dib Membrane, the adventurous prince, reduced to a passive observer that couldn’t save himself, let alone the man he loved. 

Useless. Weak. 

The instinct to succumb to despair tugged like a siren’s call, and it’d be easier to just give in wouldn’t it? After all, what did he have left to fight for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I've been sitting on this since June, and it feels indescribably good to finally post this. Unfortunately, I don't have the next chapter written yet, so it may be a minute. Thanks go out again to the discord for everything! I love y'all!


	5. Can You Save What is Already Damned?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it easier to lie to others or yourself?

By all means, Zib Membrane should feel like he was on top of the world. The pit in the depths of his stomach bewildered him. The tension in the air that only he could seemingly feel, the judging eyes of the court when there was hardly a whisper.

He’d won, hadn’t he?

He did his best to involve himself in the wedding to try and distract himself, overseeing the details of what would be the first celebration solely for him. He poured over the set-up, the flowers, the music and entertainment. In those moments he could just imagine the splendor and glamour, Irk and Tierras united by the brother who stepped up in the wake of a ‘tragedy’. The ceremony would bind Zim to him in the eyes of the world.

That was the problem though, wasn’t it?

Glancing at the quiet prince at his side, that gnawing sensation returned full force. Placid blue eyes furrowed in mild confusion.

“Does something bother you, my king?”

Even the quiet monotone grated against him, so out of place and just… wrong. But it _shouldn’t_ feel wrong! This was what he’d planned for and yet. And _yet-_

“My king?”

No, no he needed to calm himself. There was no sense in causing a scene. Zib took a deep breath, giving Zim his best smile and setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Zim, I need some time to myself. Why don’t you find Gaz or Tak? I’m sure they’d love to speak with you.”

The Irken prince stared up at him, a flicker of some emotion crossing his face before he nodded.

“As you wish.”

Zim walked quietly away, dark robes swishing. Zib slammed his hand against the wall, wincing as he felt the skin bruise. Why wasn’t he happy dammit? He had everything, this was supposed to fix the void in his chest, that empty, ever present weight but it didn’t. Victory over his twin felt like euphoria at first. Locking him away? Existing without him? Heaven.

It reminded him of the singular time someone looked his way first, years and years ago. But that was another life, and that blacksmith’s apprentice likely barely even remembered the encounter. Just like that moment the satisfaction had been fleeting.

Time went on after Dib’s funeral and Zib found his position in the eyes of the court and public only went from “brother of the heir” to “the heir’s replacement”, souring even the slightest hint of joy. Zim, of course, stuck his nose where he wasn’t supposed to and learned the truth, so he had to contain him in his own way.

And for another brief period of time he was content, confident even. But the longer he looked at those glassy blue eyes, devoid of all life and personality, he wondered if this was what he actually wanted. The traitorous voice that urged him in moments of weakness to “make things right” growing ever so much louder. But right for who? For his brother, who’d taken every opportunity and speck of attention for years? Zim, who saw him as only a nuisance?

Hell, returning things to “normal” for the sake of his so-called father would only make his place as “temporary Dib” more permanent.

So, he did his best to push those thoughts to the side, focusing on the future.

Zib closed the door to his room behind him, sighing as he undid the clasp of his cape. It felt unnatural to be here at this early hour, despite not having gone to his study in the time since he ensnared Zim. Only because he saw fit to leave Dib to his misery.

Not at all because he didn’t want to know what he’d come back to.

If he’d come back to anyone at all.

Just as he went to hang up the garment, his hand spasmed, the muscles contracting painfully tight as the black fabric fluttered to the ground. Zib let out a small snarl at the inconvenience, pushing his limits came at a cost sure, but honestly this just got on his nerves. Thankfully their instances were few and far between; although they’d increased in frequency recently. Before he could go through the motions of finding some warm water to soothe the pain however, the cramp shot up his arm.

Well that was new.

He struggled to blink back tears, labored breaths the only sound in the room. Ok, he could do this, he could ride this out. These “feedback attacks” as he’d dubbed them only ever took a half an hour at most to pass. Zib could feel the muscles begin to relax slightly, the worst of it fading away.

Controlling Zim took more out of him than he’d expected it seemed. He’d need to watch himself going forward, but this was manageable at least. Right?

The powers of this world decided that this wouldn’t be the case for him though.

All Zib could do was let out a strangled scream as his entire body seized, crashing to the floor in a heap. Even his lungs struggled to function through the agony. The pressure squeezing his rib cage so hard he could almost hear the bones popping. His body curled in on itself, whether because of the pain or in a desperate attempt to alleviate it, Zib couldn’t tell. He could barely even see, his vision fading in and out, black never leaving his periphery.

Anger blossomed in him again as several thoughts crossed his mind at once. He knew that magic, especially dark magic had consequences, but maybe if the Irken texts hadn’t been so godsdamned cryptic, he might have avoided this.

He just wanted to _fucking_ fix things, to make his life better.

Why did every effort he made end in suffering for him?

Why was nothing ever enough?

Zib’s vision began to black out more, colored spots swirling as his lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, genuine panic setting in. He tried to calm himself; small breaths loosening the constriction slightly, the blurriness remaining. He released his hands from his hair as he regained feeling in his fingers, wondering when he’d entangled them there.

It was all he could do to not curl himself in tighter, his entire body a mass of pain.

“Is it worth it?”

A small voice caused him to freeze. It sounded so familiar…

It was his voice.

“Is this who we are? What we become?”

Zib looked up into the saddened eyes of his younger self, standing just out of reach. Familiar light blue tunic over a slight frame, identical to his brother’s. The lonely boy, free from the machinations he’d burdened himself with in his attempt to grab the throne, yet swirling with the same pain.

Words failed him, and not just due to the lack of air.

“Will it be worth it?”

For a split second the image of his child self vanished, replaced by a new figure. A lone man, on the elaborate throne of the main hall. Instead of great windows around letting in the sun though, there was only shadow. The scene was eerily silent, not a soul in sight. Twin scythes of hair sprung from the head of the man on the throne, behind an all too familiar crown. But there was no life in his eyes, only an emptiness as he stared at a floor of shattered glass.

All at once he was back in his room, back with the boy he was. His expression expectant and pleading.

Zib grit his teeth, willing his body to stand despite every nerve in his body screaming to stay put. He looked down at the image, into those innocent, damningly familiar eyes.

“It w-will. It will be worth it. I promise.”

Then the boy was gone.

And Zib was alone.

The prince collapsed onto the floor, his body finally deciding to take pity on him and allow him to fully breathe, muscles no longer wound tight. Zib didn’t know if the ache that stretched across his body or the ache in his heart was worse.

This couldn’t happen again; he couldn’t even begin to afford it. Not with so little time until the wedding. He’d have to limit his magic usage, maybe even loosen his control on Zim, just enough to avoid completely collapsing, and perhaps even confessing his deeds, in front of everyone.

Not when he was so close to getting everything he wanted.

For now, though, all he wanted was sleep.

Zib called for a servant, bracing himself on the side of the doorway to remain standing.

One took notice of him, pausing in her dusting to speak to him.

“It,” he had to pause to take in more air, “it seems that I am not feeling well. I need to rest. Please, direct all questions about any preparations to Keef or my sister, they know what to do.”

The poor maid looked the prince up and down, concern for the man in front of her poorly hidden.

“As you wish your highness. Should I call the doctor?”

“No,” the last thing he wanted were questions, “I merely require sleep. These last months put more strain on my body than I expected.”

“Of course… I’ll make sure no one disturbs you. Please get well soon your highness.” 

With a bow the young woman was gone. Loathe as he was to give word of his… condition, or any sign of weakness, he wished far more to deal with as few interruptions, or potential witnesses, as he could manage.

Staggering into bed, all energy drained, Zib did his best once more to focus on the outcome of all this. Shoving all thought of his panic induced visions away. The vision of him alone… That was nothing. It wasn’t real. It wouldn’t be real.

The ends would justify the means. They had to. He had no other option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zib underestimated how often Tak and Gaz speak to one another. Not everyone is as oblivious as King Membrane honey. Maybe don't send Zim (who's very obviously under a spell) to the two people most capable of kicking your ass. 
> 
> Zib's now at a very important crossroads, hopefully he will choose the right path when the time is right.
> 
> Time will only tell.

**Author's Note:**

> The dominoes continue to fall, however will they land? We've arrived at the brink folks, buckle up.


End file.
